


there is a possibility (that you and i will make it through)

by Cloudy



Category: Magic Kaito
Genre: DCMK Secret Santa 2020, M/M, fake dating trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudy/pseuds/Cloudy
Summary: Saguru's mother is remarrying, and the pressure is on for him to bring a date to the wedding if for no other reason than to get his family off of his back. Unlikely as it may seem, it's Kaito who he turns to for help.Originally, Kaito thought this would be a great way to get some new insights on his enemy-slash-unlikely-ally, but it quickly turns out to be a more complicated situation than he originally foresaw.Written for Starlightsigner for the 2020 DCMK Secret Santa Event.
Relationships: Hakuba Saguru/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	there is a possibility (that you and i will make it through)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fiction_is_magic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiction_is_magic/gifts).



> Happy holidays, Char! I was your secret santa! Sorry for the belated gift, December was a bad month for me (y'know, real life stuff). Because of that, this fic is only completed through part one so far. There's a part two on the way, but I didn't want you to have to wait any longer to receive your gift!

The longer Kaito knew Hakuba Saguru, the more he realized just how little he actually knew him. Kaito, ever shifting between metaphorical and literal masks alike, sometimes forgot he wasn't the only person who could put up a front.

The Hakuba he knew was the one who was used to having a camera in his face, used to being right, used to getting results. He was confident, sharp, intense.

Over the past day, Kaito’d had what felt like a hundred reminders that the version of Hakuba he found familiar wasn’t the only version who existed.

In England, Hakuba carried himself differently. Still regal, still holding that confident bravado, but the  _ difference _ pervaded. He seemed untouchable, but that seemed less like a fact and more like a defense mechanism. Here, he was interacting with people who’d known him, or at least some version of him, for the vast majority of his life.

And boy, did Kaito feel like they were swimming with sharks. It seemed like everyone was just waiting for a cutting remark to draw blood. Although, maybe Hakuba’s tension was coloring the situation a little sinisterly.

Sitting next to Hakuba in the banquet hall of the manor owned by his English family, dressed to the nines and playing the part of respectable girlfriend was certainly not the way Kaito had originally expected to spend any amount of time. But here they were, and it was entirely different than he imagined it might be.

When Hakuba first asked him to do this, Kaito thought it would be a great opportunity to get more fodder to lord over him later. Certainly Kaito would at least have the chance to learn more about what Hakuba was like when he was younger and tease him for that. He could treat this as classic KID infiltration, except with Hakuba as his prime accomplice—which was definitely a weird change, but as it turned out, Hakuba played along well.

Admittedly, it was  _ Hakuba’s _ scheme, so Kaito could only hope he’d fall into step with him. This whole endeavor was because Hakuba had asked him to do it in the first place. Apparently Mrs. Not-Hakuba ( _ Caldwell _ , Kaito learned, was the name on the English side) was getting remarried and it was a very big deal. The way Kaito understood it, Hakuba wanted his mother to have a pleasant wedding day, and wanted his family off his back during an important family function. In fact, Hakuba was apparently facing a lot of pressure to get a girlfriend—among other things. Kaito had figured that it was an issue of nosy aunts and uncles caring a little too much, but based off of how Hakuba had laid out the family politics, it ran deeper than that.

And so, Kaito had built out a persona, complete with a respectable backstory and a mental list of family members that he could claim as having executive ties to a more generic-sounding company based in Tokyo. Hakuba had—ruefully—stressed that it would be best if the invented persona came from a place of apparent status. His alias would be Ariyoshi Tsukiko, heiress to her father’s corporation. Once they were past airport security, Kaito donned the disguise - they would want Hakuba to be as acquainted with Tsukiko as possible for this to work.

The start of their journey had been all business, Hakuba debriefing him on details about the extended Caldwell family, the best strategies to employ to interact with them without a hitch, their relationships to each other. Hakuba detailed his mother as having three other siblings, all sisters, with her being the eldest. They were all married, and none of them got along very well. Their dynamic was a cutthroat competitive one, masked in well-mannered civility. They all had children: Hakuba had three older cousins and five younger cousins.

And they all had negative opinions on Hakuba’s mother’s original decision to leave for Japan. According to Hakuba, it was a sore subject. If anybody asked, Tsukiko was plenty interested in moving to England if that’s where life led her.

They’d clarified details with each other on Hakuba’s relationship with Tsukiko, too. But, even after covering everything they could and catching a nap to kill some of the flight time, they were still left with another three hours of plane ride ahead of them.

In those last few hours of the flight, Kaito had become acquainted with another version of Hakuba that he wasn’t used to seeing: stretched-thin, handwringing, anxious.

Kaito had actually awakened because of how tense Hakuba was. In those last three hours, Kaito learned that Hakuba had a number of carefully concealed tics that came up when he was nervous—at least if he wasn’t policing himself as much. Admittedly, Kaito was kind of under the impression that Hakuba policed himself to a certain extent basically at all times, but nonetheless, it was still more visible anxiety than Kaito had ever seen from the other boy in one sitting.

Hakuba, Kaito had learned, tended to pinch the bridge of his nose when deep in thought. He also clenched his fists when he was stressed - a slow, fluid motion, pulling one finger in at a time until each finger folded neatly against the palm. Even his tics were methodical.

Kaito wondered what part of this was winding Hakuba so  _ tightly _ . He understood that there were some complicated family politics involved here, but he kind of assumed Hakuba had gotten the hang of that.

Either way, Kaito was taking notes. Never hurt to have more information if he ever needed to disguise as the detective again.

Of course, once the plane touched down, those nervous tics were gone, but Kaito was left wondering if the anxiety had just been concealed from sight, rather than having dissipated. At the London airport, they were met by a middle-aged man who Hakuba called Wallace and introduced as their driver. All in English. It was jarring on multiple levels, as somehow Kaito had been expecting Hakuba’s ‘baaya,’ absurd as it was. Hakuba seemed much more formal with this man than with the elderly woman Kaito had grown accustomed to associating with Hakuba.

The drive passed by in relative silence, although after some time Hakuba began to fill it by describing things to ‘Tsukiko’ as they made the trip. The house was located beyond the more regularly frequented parts of the city; they drove on and on until they were well past the modern-looking buildings and the other densely-packed architecture, and what they saw more resembled very wealthy neighborhoods with large plots of land. Eventually, Hakuba said to him, “There it is.”

The manor felt a little bit like it was out of a Victorian period piece as they approached. It was as obviously well-cared for as it was obviously old. Hakuba had referred to it as the Caldwell country house, and explained that his mother had inherited it so he had spent a great deal of time there, but that they also had a town house in London. Hakuba did a lot of moving around.

Kaito wondered: did anywhere feel like home to him?

Once inside, they were greeted by someone who Hakuba introduced as the housekeeper. Even though Hakuba had warned him that in England he didn’t go by his Japanese given name but instead by an unofficial middle name, it was still jarring to hear everyone calling him  _ Simon _ .

Admittedly, it probably would have been jarring to hear people calling him Saguru, too. Kaito wasn’t really used to hearing that either. Unexpectedly, Kaito caught himself wondering just how often Hakuba was called by his given name. Surely his father must use it. But Hakuba had once mentioned they barely saw each other, even now that he was living in Japan. And who knew if Hakuba’s baaya ever called him by his first name, rather than  _ bocchama _ .

Tsukiko would probably be used to calling him Saguru, being his girlfriend and all. Huh. It was strange to think about. Kaito decided not to devote much more thought to it for now. Tsukiko would also be trying to assimilate, he figured, so Kaito would try to stick to ‘Simon.’

The housekeeper — Ms. Harvey — welcomed ‘Simon’ back home, and she and Hakuba made pleasantries. She let them know where he could find his mother. Apparently, taking some time to herself in her office. As Ms. Harvey added that one of his aunts had stopped in with his cousins in tow, Kaito watched Hakuba’s expression remain entirely pleasant—but he noticed that methodical curling of the other boy’s fingers again. Nervous. About being home? About his mom? About the extended family? About something else? All of the above?

Hakuba said, “Thank you, Ms. Harvey. After I give my guest a tour of the manor, we’ll meet the others in the sitting room.”

Ms. Harvey and Wallace-the-driver took their luggage from them and said something about a guest room, and then Hakuba guided ‘Tsukiko’ away to begin the tour.

Kaito’s conclusion was that it was an unnecessarily large house. The hallways were endless and some of the rooms seemed sort of pointless. It was well-maintained though, especially since, according to Hakuba, it had been built in the mid 1800s. He also concluded that there were a lot of valuable things that could make interesting heist targets—although nothing he would actually count as pertaining to Pandora at all.

Kaito was doing his best to catalogue all of the creaky floorboards (and watching how Hakuba almost never stepped on one—he’d clearly memorized these floors) as well as the layout.

Once the tour was over, they retired to the “sitting room,” whose wood-paneled walls were decorated with tasteful paintings and other wall-hangings.

On one of the couches sat a couple of people only a little older than them.

“Where is Aunt Emily?” Hakuba inquired as he entered the room. Two pairs of eyes met them in surprise, falling first on Hakuba and then lingering, confused, on Tsukiko.

“Oh, Simon; she went to bother your mum, I think,” piped up one of them. She sat primly on one end of the couch while the other—her brother, Kaito assumed—sat on the opposite end. They’d both been studying their phones before they had entered. “How was your flight?”

Some tension in Hakuba’s shoulders seemed to lessen, but then it seemed to come back moments later. “Boring as ever,” he answered. He seemed stilted and awkward. He hesitated, then proceeded further into the room, taking a seat on the unoccupied of the two couches. Kaito seated himself beside him, and allowed his arm to brush Hakuba’s just slightly. Kaito felt Hakuba almost lean away from it before apparently remembering their situation and stilling himself.

The others’ eyes were burning into Kaito. He flashed them a polite smile and they smiled back and looked back to Hakuba.

“Felicity, Roderick, this is my girlfriend, Tsukiko Ariyoshi.”

Kaito wasn’t sure what he’d expected, exactly, but the girl—Felicity—tilted her head in apparent surprise. Roderick briefly pursed his lips, then shrugged.

“That’s funny, Simon,” Felicity started. “I was under the impression you weren’t inclined—”

Roderick coughed. Hakuba interrupted, “I know that I’ve said plenty of times that dating doesn’t really interest me; but Tsukiko and I are—very close, and I’m happy that she’s come along with me.”

What was that about?  _ Weren’t inclined _ … to what? Dating? It seemed like a weird thing to say though.

Either way, Kaito chimed in, using the pleasant pitch he’d been practicing the past several hours, “It’s good to be here. The country house is  _ beautiful _ and the drive getting here was so scenic!” Kaito kept his hands folded in his lap, but he leaned into Hakuba just a little bit more.

“What have you been up to in Japan, anyway? Chasing that thief, right? How close are you to done with that case, anyway?”

Kaito repressed the urge to break out into a brilliant grin. Instead he made a show of smiling fondly and rolling his eyes as he settled his chin in his hands. A girlfriend of Hakuba’s would probably be familiar with KID and probably a little exasperated and amused from hearing him talk about the thief (would Hakuba talk much about KID outside of work? He came up in class enough, so…probably?). Besides, Kaito had already decided that Tsukiko was a KID fan, although laid back about it. He’d be willing to vouch that Hakuba and Tsukiko probably bickered plenty about Kaitou KID.

“It’s not the sort of case where I can exactly say whether or not I’m getting closer,” Hakuba said. From the way he sat, Kaito would have assumed he seemed—confident, a little nonchalant. But he could also identify the tension in the other boy’s jaw. And, at some point he’d fished out his pocket watch and was fiddling with it.

“Well, sure, but this is the longest I think I’ve ever heard of you taking on a case, right?” Hakuba’s cousin pressed.

“I’m essentially consulting for a police unit to help them catch a master of disguise, escape artist thief. Every heist is different and feels a little like we’re starting from square one, since the thief adapts just as well as we do.” When Hakuba spoke, his words were just a little clipped - not as if harsh or angry, but with finality. Kaito wondered, then, if Hakuba got asked about KID often when he was over here. It hadn’t really occurred to him that the KID case going on the way it was would cause him to face any sort of criticism.

The conversation didn’t really improve after that. It didn’t get worse, either. It just…didn’t. Hakuba’s cousins looked to their phones, let the silence tick by, then made the most half-hearted small-talk Kaito had ever heard. Names were dropped and sometimes the small talk turned to gossip, but it was altogether pretty short-lived.

At the very least, a middle-aged woman with perfect hair, perfect clothes, and a neatly made-up face summoned the other two away. Hakuba called her Aunt Emily in their brief exchange, and then the two of them were alone again.

“Pleasant company,” Kaito commented aloud, and Hakuba made a sound of sarcastic agreement in his throat.

When Hakuba spoke, though, he’d moved onto something else entirely. “Mother’s freed up, so I should probably say hello.”

Kaito watched Hakuba tuck the pocket watch back out of sight. “Want me to come with?” he offered.

Hakuba seemed to hesitate in the middle of rising from his seat. Kaito peered up at the other boy, apparently facing some kind of quandary over the question.

“—Not yet. I’ll introduce you shortly, but I’ll go see her on my own first. Will that be all right?”

Kaito was just fine with that arrangement. Hakuba disappeared out of the room after he agreed, and Kaito listened to his footfalls and the way they met the aged floor. Left to his own devices, he got up and decided to take himself on his own tour around the house.

After some exploration, it was as he turned a corner down one of the manor’s narrow hallways that he saw Hakuba and a woman—Kaito recognized her from his research as Hakuba’s mother—emerging from a room.

Rosalin Caldwell was only a few centimeters shorter than her son. Her hair fell in waves that framed her face and stopped at her chin. She held herself with a prim elegance—but there was something about her that was…austere, intense, something like that. Weighty. Kaito felt a little like he could see a resemblance between the two of them. Although, right now Hakuba looked a different sort of alert and intense than Kaito was used to seeing.

He thought back to the version of Hakuba at the end of their flight. Anxious, fidgeting Hakuba.

None of those tics were coming out now, but Kaito couldn’t help but get the feeling that all of that turmoil he’d seen earlier was just beneath the surface.

Kaito flashed a smile a few degrees short of poker face, made a show of tilting his head cutely and curtseying. He’d see how her sense of humor was. “Oh, hello! I was just looking around on my own while Simon was occupied.”

She smiled back without humor. “You must be Tsukiko,” she said. “It’s good to meet you.”

Kaito wondered if this introduction was one of the things Hakuba was nervous about. First impressions were important, after all. He decided to tone it down just a little. “It’s good to meet you too, Miss…”

“You can call me Rosalin, dear.” And then, without missing a beat, “You just left her alone? You could have at least sent Ms. Harvey to check in on her. She’s going to think we’re bad hosts.” This was directed to Hakuba.

It was jarring to see Hakuba met with criticism so immediately, and more jarring still to see Hakuba react with anything other than arrogance. His eyes tightened slightly, and he cleared his throat. “I’d already acquainted her with the house, and after visiting with Roderick and Felicity I thought she might want a moment to herself.”

“Simon is exactly right,” Kaito said, speaking up in Hakuba’s defense. “Anyway, I thought it would be nice to re-acquaint myself with the house after the tour. I don’t want to end up lost, after all.”

Rosalin nodded. Kaito felt…heavily analyzed. It wasn’t so different from the feeling of Hakuba’s attention when he was feeling particularly…investigative. She sighed as if dissatisfied with something, but didn’t elaborate further. “Dinner is in an hour; you two should go freshen up, and then we can get properly acquainted and catch up.”

Hakuba was terse in the hour leading up to dinner. It was like he had withdrawn far away, somewhere deep in his mind. They sat together in the library, and Hakuba more or less seemed focused on reading a book that, as far as Kaito could tell, he’d grabbed off of a shelf at random.

Eventually Kaito ventured, “Will your…” What was the best phrasing for this? “—Mom’s fiance be at dinner?”

Hakuba didn’t glance up from his book. It seemed like he was moody but trying hard not to let on and failing badly. “No; tradition states that the bride and groom won’t see each other for twenty-four hours before the wedding.”

“Oh, huh. Well—what’s he like, anyway?”

“I’m not really sure,” Hakuba said plainly. “I don’t know him very well. According to mum he’s interested in collecting and trading. He has a child. He’s English, white, six feet tall, and he has hazel eyes and blond hair. My research on him didn’t turn up anything interesting. We’ve met a few times, but I don’t have much to say about him.”

Yeesh. Kaito wasn’t sure what to say in response; Hakuba seemed too far gone into whatever pit he’d fallen into.

Hakuba’s mood hadn’t been great, but it seemed to really plummet after greeting his mom. He wondered if the conversation had gone badly, or if it had more to do with the wedding, or if it was something else altogether. She had seemed critical of him from what little he’d seen, but it was hard to say since he didn’t have a whole lot to go off of here.

Dinner was stiff and formal. Apparently although some of the other relatives were staying overnight at the manor, they had decided to go out for dinner, so it was just Hakuba, Rosalin, and Kaito at the table, with the housing staff waiting on them.

Kaito thought, maybe, he was starting to get a feel for all that anxiety Hakuba had seemed to be experiencing during the flight. Did everything always feel this heavy?

At some point amidst the carefully constructed small talk, Hakuba’s mother asked about Kaitou KID. Kaito recalled the earlier conversation with Hakuba’s cousins.

When Hakuba gave a similar answer as he had earlier, all his mother had to say about it was, “Well, let’s hope that child’s play comes to a close soon. You do have bigger things to worry about, and having this case take so long isn’t necessarily very good for your professional reputation.” Hakuba looked like he might speak, but Rosalin decided she had more to say. “When do you suppose you’ll be moving back, anyway?”

Hakuba was silent for a moment, and Kaito was surprised when he said, “While I am undecided on the matter, I was considering staying until graduation. Having some exposure to the Japanese schooling system and seeing it all the way through seems like a good idea.”

Rosalin didn’t seem to like this idea. “It strikes me as a waste of time, to go all the way through high school when you’ve already completed through your A-levels over here.”

Kaito darted his gaze to Hakuba. The other set his cutlery down and inhaled deeply. Before he could speak, Rosalin continued, “I just hope you aren’t procrastinating on your future when you could be moving ahead.”

Hakuba’s expression was steady, but he seemed chastened, somehow. Kaito wasn’t sure he liked seeing him like this. “Of course, Mother. I understand. I feel I’m getting a great deal of experience out of my time in Japan. But we’ll just—we’ll see how the KID case goes. If I close things up there before graduation, it’s possible I might come back then.”

Obviously, Rosalin didn’t like Hakuba talking as if  _ not  _ closing the case was a possibility—it was written all over her face, and she was definitely showing that disapproval on purpose. But to her credit (?) at least she didn’t say anything.

And then, as if there wasn’t tension so dense Kaito could stab it with a knife, Rosalin turned her attention toward him. “So, Tsukiko, how did you and Simon meet?”

Kaito took the cue, and smiled a little into his napkin, almost conspiratorial. Surreptitiously, he bumped shoulders with Hakuba. “Oh, well, my father asked him to come in and help because he was concerned that somebody was embezzling funds from the company, but he didn’t have proof. I hang around my father’s office building a lot, since I plan to help with the company once I finish school, and we hit it off.”

The conversation felt as if it devolved into a job interview, from there. Kaito could tell both he and Hakuba were relieved when she said she’d be retiring for the night and rose from the table. Kaito rose as well, pecking a kiss to Hakuba’s cheek on the way up. “I think I’ll be following suit,” he said. He actually wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep like this, but, well, he kind of wanted to at least try to recover from that interrogation of a dinner and maybe also the jet lag. “I’ll see you around.”

—

Saguru’s insides were a wreck. He couldn’t keep his eyes closed. His mind wouldn’t sit still. He kept wanting to get up and pace. His head was pounding with a stress migraine.

He was spiraling again.

The wedding was tomorrow. Tomorrow. It really shouldn’t bother him this much that his mother was remarrying. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t. It had been years since the divorce. It wasn’t as if he held out any hope of his parents getting back together, so what was the problem?

He knew what the problem was. The problem was that he was being childish.

Having Kuroba along didn’t seem to help. He wasn’t sure why he thought it would. It wasn’t as if he would talk to Kuroba about any of this. It wasn’t as if Kuroba was here to provide emotional support. He was here to play a role.

Everyone was pleasantly surprised at his bringing along a girlfriend.

Well, almost everyone. His mother seemed to be suspicious. And then that comment from his cousin, before he’d managed to cut her off.  _ That’s funny, I was under the impression you weren’t inclined— _

He hadn’t thought through how exposed he would feel, bringing Kuroba along. All things considered it was something he should have anticipated. Kuroba held different pieces, had a different understanding of him. And now he was getting a more complete picture by seeing this other version of him. Probably, there were blanks Kuroba was filling in, and he was probably getting new questions.

—Did Kuroba even have questions about him? Saguru couldn’t imagine that he took up much space in Kuroba’s mind as anything other than an adversary to be regarded with wariness and caution. Perhaps a risky ally. Little more than that.

But it didn’t change the fact that Kuroba was learning more about—his insecurities, his missteps, his differing presentations, himself—than Saguru was strictly comfortable with.

He should have known this would only cause him more stress.

At least Mother hadn’t caught on yet. He couldn’t imagine she would. Kuroba’s acting was too good for that to happen. No — at worst, she might be unsure as to the legitimacy of the relationship. But he knew she wouldn’t raise the issue, if so. So long as this event went smoothly she would be off his back.

It wasn’t even the rest of the family weighing on him—he was more or less used to anything they could throw at him. But Kuroba bearing witness somehow hadn’t registered to him as a potential concern.

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Nor could he stop thinking about how well Kuroba played this role. Saguru wasn’t remotely attracted to ‘Tsukiko,’ but it still gave him such a thrill when Kuroba had brushed their hands together. When he’d leaned into his space with all the familiarity of a romantic partner. Pecked him on the cheek without an ounce of hesitation after dinner.

Saguru knew exactly why that was. But he couldn’t entertain those feelings. If he did, he’d be overcome. All things considered, it was entirely shortsighted of him to think it would be a good idea to ask Kuroba to play this part. He knew exactly what it would do to him.

But he’d made this bed and now he had to lie in it. Just for a few days. And then they both could forget all about this.

A knock at his door dragged him out of his reverie.

Saguru was already sitting up and he sat back on his hands, trying to look more as if he'd just pushed himself upright.

"Come in," he called in English, wary.

It was Kuroba who opened the bedroom door. Saguru had to really work to keep his expression composed. Surprise - distress - concern - alarm -  _ confusion _ warring for purchase as he attempted to make sense of what the other boy was doing in his doorway, rather than down the hall in the guest room he’d been granted.

He at least had the good sense to still be wearing the wig. The makeup was more or less vanished, but he hadn’t done too much by way of modifying his face shape since that would be less easy to keep up in the long-term, so his disguise was more or less passable. That said, when he was like this, all Saguru could see was Kuroba Kaito.

When Saguru remained stoically dumbfounded, Kuroba elaborated quite simply, “Couldn’t sleep,” before making his way further into the room, silently easing the door shut behind him. Or rather, as silently as he could; the door had a faint creek that couldn’t quite be quieted. Kuroba’s gaze wandered around the room, taking it in. Saguru tried not to feel self conscious. All told, it was a nice room—it just held a touch more personality than the one in Japan. The personality it held wasn’t quite him—but it wasn’t not him, either. The pieces of his literature collection that he didn’t bring along with him to Japan filled a sturdy, antique bookshelf, and his favorites sat on a shelf attached to the wall above his bed stand. On a cork board, he had clippings from cases that had held his interest growing up and other news that had caught his attention. The room was organized and lived in, manicured and curated to suit the persona his family knew.

He wondered if Kuroba was learning anything about him — or thought he was learning anything new about him — from his cursory study of the space.

Saguru angled and swung his legs off of the bed, finally speaking up. “That does make sense, it’s just past nine in the morning in Tokyo,” he offered helpfully.

Kuroba groaned in response, and then leaned against Saguru’s desk. A finely-crafted wooden beast that he’d received when he turned nine, passed on from someone else in his family. He’d fallen asleep at it countless times. Saguru watched as the other boy studied the worn surface of it. He could guess Kuroba might be trying to date it, trying to make up stories for any imperfections in the wood. “I stayed up just to avoid this problem, but here we are anyway. But it’s more than that. This house is…”

“It makes a lot of settling sounds,” Saguru agreed. “I’m used to them, but I understand. I’m having trouble sleeping, too.”

“Show time tomorrow, huh?”

Saguru scoffed, but Kuroba had a point. Today was only a warm-up. Tomorrow, with the wedding and all the guests that would be coming, was the true performance. “Show time indeed,” he murmured.

Kuroba sat on the other end of Saguru’s bed. Saguru felt his breath catch in surprise. If Kuroba noticed, he didn’t let on. “It’s gonna be a blast meeting all these stuffy rich people,” he drawled. Saguru rolled his eyes, smiled deprecatingly.

They lapsed into silence, until Kuroba said, “Your cousins were kind of weird about the fact that you had a girlfriend.”

“…Right, well.” Saguru felt his chest seizing up. He did his best to ignore it. “In all the time they knew me, I wasn’t really…”

“Into girls?” Kuroba ventured. Saguru hesitated. Kuroba was watching him.

Saguru wondered if Kuroba meant it as pointedly as he heard it. “Very interested in dating at all,” he corrected. Kuroba looked at him, quizzical. Saguru briefly met his gaze, then shook his head. “I’m sure there are plenty of different assumptions my family have arrived to about me regardless of whether they’re true or not,” he said, dismissive.

Kuroba continued to scrutinize him, then promptly shrugged and threw himself back into the mattress. Something complicated happened to Saguru’s insides and he dutifully ignored the sensation, turning his gaze to study his bookshelf with practiced nonchalance.

“We’ll have a long day ahead of us, tomorrow,” he said, to fill the silence. Time kept ticking by and neither of them were asleep. Saguru reached for his pocket watch to give his hands something to do. He clicked it open, eased it shut, methodical.

“Are you worried about it?” Kuroba asked, and it was phrased as if he was genuinely wondering. “The wedding, I mean.”

“There isn’t anything to be worried about,” Saguru said, stepping around it. “If anybody’s having nerves it’s probably my mother.”

“I mean…has she remarried at all, before now? Dated other men?”

Saguru snapped the watch shut. Failed to press down on the latch in time, so it clicked. He winced and tried to occupy himself with how it was bad for the latch, rather than the way Kuroba’s questions made him feel seen in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Not so much dated as  _ been courted by,  _ and no, this will be her second marriage altogether.”

“Well—so, my mom…I don’t think she’s dated anyone since my dad, but she jokes about it sometimes and even that’s enough to bother me. I don’t know what I’d do if Mom got remarried.”

It was so direct that Saguru felt a little blindsided. Still, it was a different situation altogether, he thought. Kuroba had a significant attachment to his late father. Of course his mother moving on to somebody different would strike some very sensitive nerves.

Saguru was not illusioned in any way about his parents’ relationship, and he didn’t worry about the possibility of either of them replacing each other. No, his own discomfort had to do with that childish insecurity of being replaced or excluded. He already hardly felt like he fit no matter where he went, and this new…individual entering his life, taking a position at his mother’s side, left him feeling even more alien.

Saguru opened his mouth to dismiss the notion out loud, but he faltered; Kuroba had spoken so frankly with him. It was as if they’d swapped places, with him taking on Kuroba’s usual role of dodging everything he said. He inhaled, exhaled, tried to find the words.

“I am doing my best to be happy for her. I am having a hard time with it, but that is because I’m being irrational.”

“What’s so irrational about it?” Kuroba challenged.

“What part of being upset about my mother getting married is  _ rational? _ ” Saguru shot back. “She’s moving on with her life. And it isn’t as if this development impacts my life much at all. Besides, I’m sure it’s relieving a great deal of pressure for her; the entire family has been holding its breath waiting for her to get married and do it the right way this time around.”

“The right way?” Kuroba echoed.

Saguru caught himself exhaling in frustration. He drew his legs up onto the bed and crossed them, leaned himself against his headboard. Kuroba rolled onto his side from where he lay curled at the other end. “Yes. The right way. Marry someone without moving to another continent. Someone who suits their standards. Somebody who fits their idea of what makes a good partner to her in status, values, et cetera.” Saguru closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then dragged his fingers backwards through his hair. He kept his eyes shut, not sure he wanted to face whatever scrutiny lay in Kuroba’s expression.

Kuroba was quiet for so long that eventually he cracked an eye open to peek. Kuroba’s expression was pensive and complicated. He had turned onto his back again and was making a face at the ceiling. Eventually, he said, “…I think it makes sense that you’re upset.”

Frankly, Saguru wished he didn’t have feelings at all. Forget whether his emotions ‘made sense’ or had a logical explanation. He felt rather finished with them altogether.

They lapsed into another bout of quiet after that. Kuroba uncurled his body, and Saguru wondered if he was going to get up to leave.

Instead, he stretched out, adjusting his position in one fluid motion which allowed him to take up more space on the bed. He yawned and laid his head against his folded arms. “Either way,” and he yawned again. “We’ll make it through tomorrow, and then it’s just one more day til the flight home.”

We.

Saguru tried not to look too closely at the usage of the word, but he couldn’t help it. We, like Kuroba was in this with him, rather than a witness. It was true that Kuroba was playing a part, and that he couldn’t just go through tomorrow without participating, but there was something warm. Something Saguru wanted to label as inclusivity. Closeness. ‘We’ felt like intimacy.

Christ, he was being so stupid about this.

“Indeed,” he murmured under his breath.

The quiet stretched. Saguru reached for his watch—he’d dropped it onto the bed earlier—and left it closed, just holding it for the rhythmic ticking.

At some point, he realized that Kuroba’s breathing had slowed and deepened. He studied the other boy, analyzed the way the hair of the wig fell around his mostly-obscured face. Then he realized he was staring and promptly stopped.

Kuroba had fallen asleep in his bed. Saguru didn’t know what to do with that. A thrill ran through him at the fact of it.

He wasn’t sure he’d be getting any sleep tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're liking it so far! Thank you for reading!


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